


Marshmallow Mafia

by deltachye



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: AU, Comedy, F/M, Mafia AU, Reader-Insert, Romance, Romantic Comedy, mafia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-09-08 15:25:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8850208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deltachye/pseuds/deltachye
Summary: [reader x mafia/gang!au haikyuu various]In which you accidentally get absorbed into vile street life… but realize these big scary bad guys ain’t as bad as they seem.





	1. 0.1 - Red & Black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> these 0.xs are prologues and will branch off to individual characters in later entries. thank you for reading!

* * *

 

“Ah… this is awkward.”

“Are you kidding me?!” the shorter one howled with a stomped foot, “how could you _kidnap the wrong person_?!”

“Not my fault!” the silver-haired man shot back, sounding hurt. “She looks like all the others!”

“What are we supposed to do now?” a black haired one groaned, running a hand up through sharply styled hair. “She’s already here. Great job, Lev. Great job.”

“Listen, how about _you_ go to downtown Shinjuku when it’s _dark_ and pick out _one_ girl with [Hair Colour] hair and—”

Your eyes went back and forth between them as they all yelled at each other, people joining in at various intervals. Your mouth hadn’t been gagged and they’d taken the sack off of your head—now, the only thing binding you were plastic zip cuffs and a rope tying you down into a wooden chair.

“Excuse me,” you said meekly. They heard you, miraculously, and shut up at once to stare. You had never felt more self-conscious under so many eyes before in your life.

“What?” the short, sandy-haired one asked gruffly.

“Yaku, don’t be so mean to her,” the one at your side who had unhooded you muttered.

“Now she knows _my_ name!” Yaku thundered. “What if we have to kill her for this!? Lev, shut up!”

“Am _I_ not important enough to have my name kept quiet?!”

“Can I _not_ be killed?” you interjected dryly, regaining a sense of humour after hearing the two throw spiteful insults at each other like children. “I would really just like to go if you’ve got the wrong gal.”

“Well, that’s the thing.” The spiky haired one rubbed his hands together sort of sheepishly. “We can’t really just ‘let you go’. After all, you’ve seen all our faces and heard our voices.”

“I won’t tell anybody. Promise?” you attempted, even smiling. He blinked.

“Right. Well then. We can let her go, right, Yaku?” He turned to look at the shorter one, who scowled.

“No, we _can’t_. We’re a freaking mafia group, do you really think we can just let the chick go?” Yaku aimed a sharp kick at Spiky Hair, and you looked around the room as he complained.

“I mean… for a mafia group, this is pretty modest.”

You brought silence to the bickering room again. It was almost like a magic trick. One who hadn’t spoken before stepped forwards, a sullen frown and bleached hair with dark roots making him look like a cup of pudding that fell off the wrong side of the bed.

“Are you insulting us?” he asked in a quiet voice that sounded a hundred times more threatening than that of Yaku’s louder one.

“No,” you said quickly. “Just saying… I wouldn’t have thought you were a… well, a mafia group.”

“I… kidnapped you. Did you forget that?” Lev talked slowly as if he were coaching an idiotic child that it was, indeed, stupid to stab electric sockets with metal forks.

“No,” you retorted bitterly. You jerked against the ropes of your chair for emphasis. “I _didn’t_.”

“You’re kinda talkative for a hostage,” Spiky Hair said all of the sudden. His amber eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Who are you?”

“The wrong girl, apparently.”

“I agree with Kuroo,” Yaku said coldly. “She’s way too into this. Shouldn’t she be like… crying?”

“You gave away his name,” you pointed out. Spiky Hair/Kuroo raised his eyebrow, looking like a startled pigeon. Yaku cussed frustratedly.

“You don’t even have weapons!” you chided, even disapprovingly. “If you really wanted me to be scared, this wouldn’t come close to cutting it.”

“I’ll say it again,” Kuroo muttered in a much lower tone, stepping closer to you and crouching down so that he could look into your eyes. You met the gaze despite the sudden burning feeling you got when you looked at him. “Who. Are. You?”

You shrugged. “The wrong girl.”

Your eyes met one of the members of Nekoma’s affiliates, a well-known and high-functioning mafia gang on the streets of Tokyo.

 

_“I think she’s the right girl.”_


	2. 0.2 - Black & Orange

“It’s… a baby.”

“Thank you Kageyama,” you breathed, closing your eyes so that you didn’t strangle him. Despite being an excellent Architect and an even better shot, he was an absolute moron when it came to the simpler things in life. “Thank you for the information. Because I obviously don’t have eyes, I didn’t know that there was a _baby sitting on our doorstep_ —!”

“What do we do?” Tanaka yelped, staring down at the bundled baby from behind you as if it were a bomb. Those had come in the mail plenty of times, and Tanaka hadn’t batted an eyelash—the fiery shaved-headed Pyro had never failed to make Karasuno’s exits dramatic. But a snotty human kid? Oh, that was way scarier than a block of C4.

“What do we do, Ryu? [Name]?” moaned Nishinoya. The group’s Sniper always had everybody’s back during jobs, but now he was cowering behind Tanaka’s back, trembling like it was winter in August. 

You shrugged Tanaka off of you with a scowl, reaching out and taking the basket before pulling it into the house. Nishinoya and Tanaka clutched each other and scooted to the far side of the living room as you crouched, looking into the basket for any notes. Nothing. ‘Cept for an orange-haired kid. 

“It’s not crying,” Kageyama said nervously, shuffling around at your side as if he too wanted to turn tail and book it. “Maybe it’s dead?”

“Don’t say that!” you snapped, slapping up at his wrist. You reached forwards and prodded the child on the forehead. You guessed it was a boy judging from the face, and jerked your hand away when he shifted in response. Well, he was definitely alive. The boy opened his large brown eyes, squinting at you. Immediately, he started crying.

“Rude,” you told him irritably. But you didn’t know what to do now that the baby was wailing, his lungs seeming to never end.

“What’s going on down here?” grouched the second-in-command, Sugawara. “Is that a baby? Turn down the TV for God’s sake!” He stumbled down the stairs, half awake, rubbing his eyes. His grey hair stood up in odd places. The group’s best Diplomat was also the most motherly one you knew and you waved him down like you might an airplane.

“Baby! Crying! Help!” you called, deciding to keep it simple and to the point. Sugawara squinted with confusion as Yachi and Kiyoko, the group’s other two girls and respective Designer and Cleaner-Upper, emerged from the neighbouring room. Yachi’s hands flew up to her mouth with shock and Kiyoko’s blue eyes widened from behind stylish glasses.

“Let’s chuck it back outside,” came the dry voice of Tsukishima, who had also been woken up from the baby’s crying. Tsukishima was a stellar Defenseman, with smarts and a glare that could cut steel. Unfortunately, he didn’t seem keen on solving the issue in a practical way, yawning and pulling heavy-duty noise-cancelling headphones over his ears. He waved a lazy goodbye, heading back down into the basement. Yamaguchi, who was a Sniper alongside Nishinoya, smiled sheepishly and pointed at earplugs in his ears before descending the stairs as well. 

Sugawara came forwards and plucked the infant out of the basket. He had a highly uncomfortable expression but rocked the infant in his arms, making shushing noises. Everybody was tense as the kid kept crying. Somebody looked at the gun on the table awkwardly. It was pretty clear that a mafia hideout was no place for a kid.

“What in all Hells—”

Sawamura Daichi, the gang’s Leader, finally came down from the other staircase. He was the only one out of his pyjamas, fully dressed in a two-piece American fitted suit the colour of squid ink. An orange Hermes tie splashed colour across his dark frame. His terrifying glare froze on his face when he saw the swaddled baby in Sugawara’s arms.

“That’s a baby,” he said blankly.

“Thanks,” you shot back venomously. “Didn’t know that.” You looked desperately at Sugawara. “What do we do?”

“Shh,” the grey-haired man hissed, “he’s calming down.”

Maybe the kid had deafened you, because you hadn’t even realized it. Everybody stopped panicking and listened intently. The infant’s sobs were indeed quieting into warbling gurgles, and finally, silence. Sweet silence. Nishinoya dropped his hands from his ears with a sigh and Yachi came forwards with shaky knees.

“Why did… _whoever_ leave him with us?” she asked timidly. “Don’t they know that this isn’t the right place?”

“We should take him to an adoption centre right now,” Kiyoko interjected firmly. You nodded. Finally, something _smart_ was said. To your surprise, Sugawara shook his head hotly.

“Suga?” Daichi asked, also shocked. “You know we can’t keep the kid, right?”

“Why not?” Sugawara fired back furiously, tightening his grip around the swaddled infant. He wasn’t asleep and began to coo, making strange baby sounds that seemed to stir some primordial maternal instinct inside of you. You found yourself siding with Sugawara even though logic was screaming at you: _dumbass, you can’t even take care of yourself, much less a baby!_

“I—well… we’re a _mafia_ ,” Daichi said in response, totally flabbergasted by Sugawara’s desire to keep the boy. Asahi, the group’s Heavy who had been silent so far, raised a hand as if he were waiting to be called on in class. 

“I think Suga’s right.” The tall man ran a hand through his clean-cut beard nervously. “The baby was left here for a reason. W-we should at least keep him for a while until we know more. Right?”

“You’re kidding me,” Daichi replied with disbelief, his hands tucked into his pockets. “You too?”

“He’s pretty cute,” Nishinoya pointed out, now having gotten over his fear as he skirted up beside Sugawara. Sugawara cradled the baby in open arms so that everybody could see. In a flash, Tanaka was right there too, tickling the kid’s nose. Even Kiyoko was smiling faintly, brushing orange strands of hair out of the baby’s face.

“Okay, wait. Time out! You’re saying that we’re going to keep the kid?” you asked, waving your arms to get their attention. Daichi, who had been playing with the baby’s hands, quickly stepped away and cleared his throat.

“Right. Well. Asahi’s right. We should at least wait a couple of days before we hand the kid off.”

“But we have a job,” you reminded in an exasperated tone. “Did everybody forget? We’re going to be pulling a heist in like…” you checked your watch. “Today!”

“Oh… right. Okay [Name], how about you watch the kid?”

“Me?!” you shrieked. “Just because I suck at shooting a gun, you’re going to shunt me down to babysitting duty?!”

“No offense,” Kageyama said bluntly. “But you really suck.”

“Offense taken!”

“Fine, fine! Calm down! We can probably do the heist okay without one other person. And [Name], we love you, but you really can’t shoot.”

You stomped your foot but said nothing, because you had also accidentally shot Daichi in the ass one year.

“It’s settled then. The kid’ll be watched by [Name] and…”

_Your eyes met his and he definitely wasn’t happy about it._


	3. 0.3 - Cyan & White

“[Name]-chan!”

You looked up and had a half-grin, forced scowl as you saw your childhood friend prance up to you. He bowed and kissed the tips of your fingers, to which you snatched them away, knocking him fast upside the head.

“Idiot! Who do you think you are, some old British prince?”

You were glad that he started to complain and straighten his hat, because it gave you time to fan the blush off of your cheeks.

Oikawa chuckled as he took his seat across from you. “Sorry for being late. I had some business with work.”

You sighed but shrugged. “Whatever. You still haven’t told me what you do, though. Do you not trust me?”

“On the contrary!” he protested. “I trust you more than anything!”

Maybe that same unconditional trust between childhood friends was how he had roped you into his work. That was fine and all, except for the fact that he’d neglected to mention that it was mafia work.

But first, croissants.

\---

After croissants, shit hit the fan.

“We just mugged that guy!” you shrieked, getting bounced along as Oikawa pulled at your wrist, even going so far as to vault a bike rack. You had no idea how he did so with such grace and to avoid getting rammed headfirst into it, you had to dodge it. Oikawa didn’t acknowledge your successful skirting of the deathly bike rack and kept running. Your heart was pounding faster than your feet hitting the pavement.

“Yeah?” he said matter-of-factly, his voice showing no sign of exertion whatsoever. “So?”

“ _So_?!” you howled. “It’s illegal to mug people, last I checked!”

“Is it?” he replied in a nonchalant, teasing way. “My bad. This way, [Name].”

Suddenly he stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk. The sound of your angry pursuer floated forwards in a mix of hoarse wheezing and angry cussing. Oikawa gave you no time at all to look behind you before he shoved you into a car, which had been parked inconspicuously beside a meter. You banged your head against the opposite car door and was flown backwards into the seat as the driver suddenly stepped on it. 

“Who’s this chick? You accidentally steal a hooker, Oikawa?” the driver asked, craning his head back to look while simultaneously gunning it. You blanched at the sight of his face.

“ _Hanamaki_?”

“[Name]?” he replied, seeming only mildly surprised to see you. “Hey, how you doin’?”

“Got the old man that tried to steal our docks down at Yokohama,” Oikawa declared smugly before you could say that you were doin’ just awful. He tossed forwards the wallet you had helped him steal and kicked his feet up, putting his hands behind his head. You gaped as Matsukawa turned around in the passenger’s seat, scooping it up. He gave you a wink before turning to face forwards, as if totally expecting you to be there.

It was still a mere blurry fog of what had happened. The man had come forwards, punching Oikawa across the face, in broad daylight as the two of you were parting ways from brunch. He had come out of nowhere, too. As a good friend, you’d defended Oikawa by returning the favour, a quick right hook followed by a left uppercut and right jab. 

You were a boxer on the off days, after all, and fighting was your forte.

Then Oikawa had stolen the man’s wallet, grabbed your hand, and ran. If the laws had changed and mugging was now perfectly normal, you had apparently slept in one time too many, because you 100% missed it. 

“I don’t get it,” you managed to cough out, your adrenaline and exhaustion finally dying away. “Why’d you involve me? Why… how long…”

“Questions are no good in the business,” Oikawa replied gently. He gave you a sly glance, a faint smile on his face. You knew that look. He was calculating. Whenever you played chess against him, he’d get that look when he was thinking. Oikawa played dumb, but he had never lost. You’d always considered yourself pretty good, but it was impossible to beat somebody who always thought 5 moves ahead.

“So… then what? Wait… what are you going to do with me?”

A horrible image of Oikawa, your old neighbour and one of your best friends slitting your throat flashed into mind. You swallowed thickly, scooting away from him in the cream leather seats. He raised an eyebrow but then breathed a laugh, probably realizing what you were thinking.

“I’m not going to kill you, [Name].”

You couldn’t help a sigh of relief. The two guys at the front both snorted at your reaction and you couldn’t even glare at them like you normally would.

“If Hanamaki and Matsukawa are in on this…? Then…”

“Iwa-chan too,” Oikawa nodded. 

“Kyoutani? _Yahaba_?” You took your fingers out and started listing all the guys you had hung out with recently. 

“Even Kindaichi,” Matsukawa chimed in from the front. You resisted the urge to scream with frustration.

“And _all_ of you have been hiding this from me?!”

“Well, we always told you it was a boy’s night out,” Oikawa said with a light shrug. You wished you were in a ring with him so that you could grapple him into the floor.

“Fine. Okay. I’ll accept that you guys are… _gangsters_ , or whatever. But what does that have to do with me?”

“I never asked you to beat up some guy trying to pinch our assets,” Oikawa muttered. Suddenly his tone had grown more serious. At the wheel, Hanamaki nudged the acceleration, shooting the BMW past a red light before taking a sharp shoulder turn. Oikawa was already holding on, but you weren’t prepared, sliding hard into Oikawa. He caught you easily and held you around the waist, a small smile that looked kind of sad on his lips.

“Now… you can’t go back.”

“What?” It was too quiet for you to hear clearly and you hoped he hadn’t said what you thought you just did.

“We’re here.” Matsukawa and Hanamaki got out simultaneously. Oikawa kept holding onto you, his warmth seeping through your clothes as you stared up at his eyes. There were tiny flecks of gold in his eyes. You hadn’t been this close to him in years.

“I mean that it’ll be too dangerous to let you live a normal life. They’ve seen your face.”

“Then… no,” you breathed, your blood feeling like it had frozen in your veins. “Does that mean…?”

He shook his head to himself and opened the car door, getting out. He held a hand out for you and you hesitated slightly, before grabbing onto it. If you couldn’t trust him, who could you? With a strong tug he yanked you out of the car, before gesturing around. You looked. It appeared to be some sort of parking garage, with other expensive cars lining the walls. He was still holding onto your hand as he followed after Hanamaki and Matsukawa, who were holding open an elevator.

“Where are we?” you asked. He shushed you.

“Questions are no good, remember?”

The four of you rode up silently. Hanamaki and Matsukawa were playing a game of chopsticks on their fingers. When Matsukawa reached forwards, his suit jacket lifted and you could see the gun tucked into his waistband. You looked away quickly.

You stared hard at the glowing numbers on the right of the door, waiting until it counted up from P1 to 72. When the doors slid open, you practically choked, greeted by the group of people you’d called friends.

“Welcome to the Seijoh gang,” Oikawa whispered to you, his arm sliding from your waist. You looked around the gigantic loft, your eyes unable to drink in just how expensive everything was. They stared back at you.

Finally, your eyes met with his, and you were unable to stop yourself from blurting his name out.

_“You, too!?”_


	4. 0.4 - White & Maroon

When people had asked you what you wanted to be when you grew up, you never would’ve said ‘an associate of one of the most ruthless gangs in Japan’. You said something like ‘doctor’ or ‘vet’. Still, life had a funny way of doing weird things, and that was what you found yourself as.

It was kind of guaranteed, though. Your mother and father had both been mafia. Had, past tense, because they were now dead. Accidental car bomb. ‘Accident’, being funny joke to people in your circle. Did you resent the loss? Not exactly. They had never been particularly close to you. Your real family lay in the hands of your fellow associates. Especially your uncle.

Okita Souji had been the left hand man of your father’s, the gang’s _capo_. Okita wasn’t your real uncle; he had been sworn in as a brother by word instead. The role should’ve fallen to your father’s son, if he had one—but your mother grew infertile after your birth, and the resentment of having to pass leadership out of his bloodline made your father quite cold towards you. But that was fine. You were used to the cold. 

You should’ve hated Okita, but you didn’t. Okita was a better father to you than your own blood had been. When he called you to his office, you did so without hesitation. Your father’s office had always seemed so cold in your memories, but Okita made it seem warmer, making it seem less like a dungeon than a large study with a fire that was always burning. You closed the door behind you and smiled.

“Uncle Souji.”

He looked up from his papers and smiled back, extinguishing the cigarette hanging out of his mouth. “[Name]-chan. How are you?”

“Fine. The last job went just as planned.”

“That’s good… but I wasn’t talking about work. How are _you_?”

It was strange. Nobody had ever bothered to ask after your health before Okita. Even then, the questions were rare, because there were always more important things to talk about rather than your life. You shifted in your heels.

“Um… okay, I guess. Why?”

“We have something… to discuss. Sit.”

You eyed the chair warily. That chair was where people sat when they got sentenced to death.

Still, you sat slowly. He rubbed his unshaven stubble with a rough hand and sighed heavily.

“[Name], our group is dying.”

“That’s a lie,” you shot back. “We’re fine.”

“We’re not. [Name]-chan, face it. We’ve lost too much when your father and mother went out. Loyalty’s been divided… funds have been low… we’re barely staying afloat with the underground games. We just lost our contraband fences in South Africa. There’s no way we can survive if war is declared.”

“There’s going to be a war?” you asked with horror. He thought about something and lit a fresh cigarette, smoke puffing out with the following words.

“Not unless we marry you out.”

Although he hadn’t given you the blade to commit suicide with, you felt like you had been sentenced to die all the same.

\---

You hadn’t wanted to do it, but you had to. You weren’t well liked in your own group. After all, you were a girl, and you had no desire to sleep with any of the ratty underlings. Why _would_ they like you? Your personality? As if.

Your uncle sent you off with a smoky apology, an awkward hug, and that was it. Your bags had already been packed weeks before, and now, there was no turning back.

The Shiratorizawa gang was one of the biggest groups in the area. Karasuno from the south had been clawing their ways up the ranks, scooping up territories and influential people faster than people had anticipated. They had even won a dispute against Seijoh, which had brought a chill down everyone's spine. It was clear that Karasuno was going to grow big, but there wasn’t enough room for the families. Somebody had to go down. Okita guessed that it would be yours. As a solution, he’d meld the group’s assets into Shiratorizawa’s in exchange for protection. _You_ were just a promise. A hostage.

He’d told you to look presentable, so you put on your ugliest scowl and entered.

A guard frisked you. They checked your teeth for cyanide pills and took your gun away from you. You watched it go with mournful eyes. It had been the only gift besides life your father would ever give you.

“He’s a lucky one, ain’t he?” the guard asked jokingly as he checked your pockets for blades. The other sighed wistfully as his hands ran over the insides of your thighs.

“Wish I could take his place.”

Even though they were literally talking about your betrothed, you couldn’t help but feel a sting of humour and guilt. You still didn’t know his face. Nobody had bothered to send you a picture of your future hubby-wubby. All you knew was his name on paper. You weren’t even sure you knew how to read the kanji properly. 

“Right this way, lady.” The guards were satisfied with their inspection and one led you forwards into an antechamber. Two other men in black were stationed in front of a large wooden door. You could see the outline of his gun in his shirt pocket. He opened the door wordlessly and you stepped in, head down.

A hum of conversation died the second you stepped foot into the room. You looked up hesitantly, your eyes skipping over their faces, struggling to figure out which one was _the_ one. Your eyes caught on one face in particular and they smirked at you, straightening. Fear struck your heart, making it race when they spoke.

_“Welcome to Shiratorizawa.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Elsewhere: https://goo.gl/RPb664


End file.
